If anyone can pull off the role of satirical, socio-political prophet and shnooky belletrist, it’s Gary Shteyngart. The author of The Russian Debutante’s Handbook and Absurdistan, Shteyngart is one of the punchiest and funniest young novelists out there. His writing, colored and coarsened by the blunt cynicism of his 1970s upbringing in the Soviet Union, draws on intricate tessellations of classic Russian literature, self-deprecating Semitic humor, and current global politics. Being a Jew born in 1972 in the anti-Semitic Soviet Union and having immigrated to Queens in 1979, he has achieved status as a perpetual outsider, who can observe from remove and criticize with greater perspicacity.
Rufus Wainwright performed at McCarter Theatre last Saturday. It was a gorgeous weekend all around, though less so as Saturday waned and Sunday’s clouds arrived unfashionably early. I freely admit to never having heard a lick of Rufus Wainwright’s recorded music. Wainwright’s is one of those singer-songwritery names that lurks around the back of my mind with “Ben Folds,” “Duncan Sheik,” “Jeremy Enigk,” and “Mason Jennings.” Such a name, Sheik.
On Buzzfeed’s “About Us” page, the site claims to be “a new kind of media company for the social world. Our technology powers the viral distribution of content, detects what is trending on the web, and connects people in realtime with the hottest content of the moment. Our site is a rapidly growing hub for viral media that reaches over 13 million monthly unique visitors and our viral media network reaches an additional 200M.”
“This was never going to be a simple game with a clear winner. From the start, this boxing match was set up to be a rivalry. It would last nineteen years and counting.”
My favorite thing to do is to lie on my back. When things need to be moved, say a piece of trash that is fermenting under my feet, I grunt and push it aside with my toe. My least favorite … Read More
Are people afraid that their deepest darkest secrets will make their way into the hands of their mortal enemies? Why do we see one person’s post on Facebook and instantly delve into a tumultuous back and forth between the meager efforts to protect our photos and the nonchalant I-don’t-give-a-fuck shoulder shrug?
It’s like one of those Twilight Zone epiphanies that arrives midway through an episode to thwart the lately begotten hopes and dreams of whatever poor fool thought he caught a lucky break or maybe had a good thing going. So … Read More
Daniel patrick O’Connell does not blend in with the Ulaan Baatar crowd. A preppy, robust, white-haired Cottage alumnus, he wore a pink bow tie to work today because it’s Friday, and he sticks out almost comically as he walks past the locals on the Peace Avenue sidewalk downtown.
I miss The Shins. Oh, their new sound is good; frontman James Mercer gives it his all with clever lyrics and solid indie pop. But where have the mellow harmonies of the group’s first album gone? The ones that changed … Read More
It’s that time of year again when the staircases are rainbowed up, the walk from my dorm to Frist smells like lilacs, and supposedly, hidden somewhere in the nooks of Princeton campus, are over 1,000 gay alumni ready to party.
Classical composers usually improve as they age. Beethoven reached dizzying heights during his late period; his last few symphonies and string quartets, intensely personal meditations on human nature and God, radically altered the way composers thought about form and harmony. Stravinsky, whose upward trajectory is harder to trace, given his restless desire to explore different musical territories, produced some of his most intricately beautiful works during old age. Late periods are usually marked by mastery and introspection.
